


What His Hands Remember

by ArtsyAfrodite



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Daddy Mickey, Future Fic, Gallavich, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:23:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtsyAfrodite/pseuds/ArtsyAfrodite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian coughed violently, not sure if the pain in his chest was from the brewing bronchitis or the lie he just fed to himself.  Nevertheless, he was sick of swallowing it all, really.  It had been over a year and he was just so ill, still.  Fucking lies.  The truth was in the hands anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He thought he had this down to a science. 

Ian blinked at the couple standing outside the Kash N Grab, their forms familiar, silhouettes mocking.  But the addition held by the hands that knew his flesh so well was far from recognizable.  Ian flinched when the man turned to the side, his black hair now tapered on the sides but his eyes still just as blue, even from his side profile.  A smile stretched across his face as he held his baby up in admiration, the infant a spitting image of him.  Ian felt a pang in his chest as he watched him cradle the child close to his chest to pull the baby’s hat down more, his smile never wavering.  He’d never seen him smile like _that._   He frantically blinked his green eyes again, denying the sight, the man, the baby, the woman next to him.  It was all a lie.  It had to be.  But no matter how much he coerced his eyes to deny and forget, it was his hands that reminded him of the impossibility of such a feat.  His fingers twitched at the reminiscence of pale skin and tufts of black hair that was certainly imprinted in the tips – his fingerprints spelled his name now.  _Mickey._

So out of sight, out of mind; as the saying goes.  He choked on the absurdity of what he now deemed his motto as he walked away, because bullshit never felt so dry going down.    Ian coughed violently, not sure if the pain in his chest was from the brewing bronchitis or the lie he just fed to himself.  Nevertheless, he was sick of swallowing it all, really.  It had been over a year and he was just so ill, still.  _Fucking lies._ The truth was in the hands anyway.  Because what the eyes refuse to recognize and connect to memories, the hands will always remember, _always_.  Adjusting his scarf against his neck to combat the bitter Chicago cold, he slipped away just as easily and unnoticed as he emerged in the shadows, certain he hadn’t been seen.  But he had been.  Svetlana’s eyes caught hold of Ian just as he turned the corner, his red hair being what initially grabbed her attention.  Her mouth twitched as a small smile formed.  _It’s happening._   She knew it would come to this.  _“He’s come back,”_ she thought to herself. 

“Somethin’ got your attention over there?” Mickey asked, noticing his wife was preoccupied with _something_ down the street.  Svetlana snapped out of her daze and looked back at Mickey and their son.  She quickly wiped the smile off of her face.

“No, nothing,” she lied.  Mickey wasn’t buying it.

“Lana.”

“What?  I said nothing.”  Her accent got heavier.  She always sounded extra Russian when she was annoyed with him.

“Alright, whatever.”  There was suspicion in Mickey’s response.  Svetlana dismissed it.  She had too much on her mind to even think about bothering with Mickey’s shit.  And he wasn’t going to give it to her – not today.

“I go to work now,” she said to Mickey as she grabbed their son and kissed him on his cheeks before handing him back.  Mickey raised an eyebrow.

“Thought you weren’t due in ‘til later this evening.”  Mickey stared at Svetlana, giving her his _‘don’t bullshit me’_ look, which she always ignored.

“You and your questions Michael,” she responded as she straightened out his scarf.  He cringed at his full name, which she refused to stop using no matter how many times he threatened her not to.  “Irina called out sick, so I cover for her.  I go now, k?”

“The fuck am I supposed to do with Sebastian now?!” he said almost yelling.  “Dammit we talked about this.  You were supposed to go to work this evening when Mandy got back from class so she could watch him for us!”  His voice must have startled the little guy because he began to cry, his lips curling downward as they trembled.  Svetlana sucked her teeth, clearly annoyed.  She took her son back, and began to rock him until he calmed down as she scowled at Mickey.

“He’s your boy too.  Figure it out,” she said handing him back.

“But I got runs with Iggy.  We can’t cancel Lana.”

“You’re a father now.  Bastian comes first.”  She began to adjust her too short and too tight turquoise mini skirt before zipping her fur coat up higher.  “And we both know I’m the bread winner.  Have Iggy babysit with you, yes?”  Mickey’s jaw tightened.  Another battle won by the bitch.  She was up to something and he knew it, but he would deal with her later.  God he couldn’t stand her sometimes.  But despite the circumstances that bought them together, they actually developed a friendship, and he knew he could confide in her about things he couldn’t share with anyone else.  So swallowing his pride was something he got good at doing for her.  Besides, she allowed Mickey to continue to fuck other dudes, while being his beard.  He couldn’t complain.

“Fuck Lana.  Alright, alright.”

“Good.”  She tucked her shoulder length brown hair behind her ears and leaned in to kiss their son one more time, before walking, more like halfway running off.  Mickey placed Sebastian back in his stroller, who managed to maneuver the corner of his blanket into his mouth.  He turned around after strapping him in, and Svetlana was already out of sight. 

_Where the fuck was she rushing off to, really?_

She picked up her pace once she turned the corner, her high heel boots letting out an urban symphony of _‘click, clack, click, clack!’_ against the Chicago pavement.  She hoped the red head hadn’t gotten too far.  “Fucking Michael and his mouth,” she muttered to herself, now doing a fast walk.  Ian was nowhere in sight as she turned her head from side to side, looking down side streets and alley ways.  _“Shit,”_ she thought to herself.  She continued to walk through the cold, her nose frozen and cheeks red and nearly lost her footing on a patch of ice when a hand grabbed her arm from behind, helping her to regain her balance.  She turned around and was met by that familiar face underneath a crown of red hair.  He cocked an eyebrow, his facial expression questioning.

“Looking for me?” 


	2. Chapter 2

“K little guy, we’re home.” 

Mickey picked up Sebastian, the cooing noises his son was making warming his frozen insides.  Those sounds got him every time.  He made his way to the couch, making sure to remove the empty meth pipe before sitting down.  _Fucking Terry._   As he removed Sebastian’s winter coat and hat, he began to giggle as he drooled.  Mickey ran his fingers through little bunches of black hair as he tickled his son, his blue eyes twinkling up at him.  It never ceased to amaze him how he no longer needed a mirror to look at himself.  Paternity was never a question when Sebastian was born; although Mickey did sneak a test behind Svetlana’s back just to be sure, given her career choice.  If 99.99% wasn’t enough proof, his son’s eyes and the way he crinkled his face when upset was more than enough to go by.  It was all _him._   “That’s my boy,” Mickey said as he leaned his face in towards Sebastian who instinctively grabbed at his father’s nose.    

“What the fuck Mick.  Where’s Svetlana?”  Mickey turned around to see Iggy walking erratically into the living room, fully suited in his winter gear and more than likely strapped.  He reminded him of Terry when he got like this, obviously on the war path.

“Work,” Mickey responded blandly before turning back to Sebastian.

“Aw c’mon man!  You said Mands was watching him later when she got back from class.  Thought Svetlana was goin’ to the Spa then!”  Iggy was standing in front of Mickey now who refused to look up from his son.  He was beginning to get pissed with Iggy for raising his voice, his frustration apparent in the dancing of his jaw muscles and his fixed concentration on nothing in particular on Sebastian’s sweater.

“One, lower your fucking voice,” Mickey began while placing Sebastian on his chest.  “Two, Irina called in sick so she’s covering.  Three, I think Lana’s up to something but it doesn’t fucking matter now cuz we gotta watch Bastian regardless.  And four, run’s ain’t gettin’ done today.”

“ _We_ gotta watch _your_ son?”

“Yeah, problem?” Mickey asked, his tone serious.  The question was definitely rhetorical.  No answer needed because it was a given – there better not be one. 

“Shit, ok man.  But this bitch is cuttin’ into my money.  You owe me,” Iggy said as he plopped down next to Mickey.  He took off his coat and his gun out of his back holster, placing it next to him.

“Well she makes the bulk of our money.” 

“Whatever man.”

Mickey motioned at the gun on the couch next to his brother.  “Ay, what the fuck did I tell you about guns around my son?  Move it, _now._ ”

“Damn bro, so fatherly now,” Iggy laughed as he threw his hands up in surrender.  They all had been around guns, probably since in the womb, but Mickey refused to bring Sebastian up the same way.  He would at least attempt to be a better father than Terry.

“Now!”

“Alright alright!”  Iggy grabbed the gun and placed it on top of the stolen sound system.  “Want a beer man?”

“Definitely could use one right now.”  Mickey stood from the couch, cradling a now fussy Sebastian in his arms.  Usually around this time Svetlana prepared his bottle – something Mickey _never_ did.  “Shit, you’re hungry aren’t you little guy?”  Sebastian’s whines quickly turned into a fit of crying, tears bursting from his blue eyes as Mickey placed him on his chest, bouncing him up and down.  He tried to give him his pacifier, only for him to spit it out.  Mickey laughed to himself as the sounds of Svetlana’s voice played in his mind; an endless broken record of a harsh Russian accent screaming his inconsistencies at him and telling him how he needed to know how to make his son’s bottles.

 

_“Fuck off Lana, I’m eating.”_

_“Sebastian needs to eat too,” Svetlana responded to a now annoyed Mickey.  Never disturb him while he eats – she knew this.  “Come, I show you how to make his bottle.”_

_“Why?  Can’t you do it?”  Mickey looked up from his plate, meeting the look of a now frowning Svetlana._

_“Of course I can, but this is something you need to learn eventually, yes?”  Apparently his son had a sensitive stomach, and you had to get the proportions of milk and some special formula just right, with a touch of baby cereal._

_“Nah, not right now,” Mickey responded into his plate.  He could hear Svetlana suck her teeth loudly and let out a disgruntled breath.  She began mumbling in Russian, probably calling him all kinds of assholes and son-of-a-bitches.  Mickey threw his fork down.  “Fuck!  Later Lana, alright?  Can I eat in peace?”_

_“I don’t understand you Michael, but suit yourself.”_

Sebastian’s cries grew louder, Mickey’s attempts to calm him down failing miserably.  He couldn’t deal with this on his own, not now.  To make his blood pressure higher, Iggy was taking fucking forever with their beers and God did he need the drink.  Mickey paced back and forth with his son, still trying to calm him down, knowing all the little guy wanted was to eat.  He finally began to make his way to the kitchen, hoping he would get this shit right without making Sebastian even fussier from an upset stomach.  He met Iggy halfway there.

“The fuck took you so long?” Mickey spat.  Iggy was holding their beers, and something else he didn’t catch right away.  He handed Mickey his beer.

“Whoa, a _thank you_ would have been nice asshole.” 

“Fuck off.”  Mickey then noticed Iggy unwrap the other object he was holding from a warm cloth.  He began to shake it vigorously before handing it to him, a knowing look spreading across his face as he took the beer from Mickey’s hand and replaced it with the warm object.

“Here,” Iggy said simply before walking back to the couch.  Mickey looked down at the bottle his brother made for Sebastian.  His eyes grew wide then narrowed as he turned to look at him.

“You know how to make Bastian’s bottle?”

“Yeah.”

“What?  How?”  Incredulity was in Mickey’s tone, as he himself didn’t even know how to make his son’s bottle, _properly_.

“Lana showed me.”

“When?”

“Couple weeks ago when you were at the garage.  She was operating off like two hours of sleep man, from workin’ overnight and needed help with Bastian.  He was fussy as hell.”  Iggy chuckled to himself at the memory of Svetlana with circles under eyes almost past her cheeks and her skin as white as a ghost.  “I told her to show me how to make Bastian’s bottle and I would feed him so she could sleep.  She was glad someone besides her and Mandy would know, because you obviously would never learn.”

“Ay, I was gonna learn soon alright!” Mickey spat.  He was somewhat jealous that his brother knew how to handle his son better than him.  He placed the bottle to Sebastian’s lips, who hastily took the nipple into his mouth, instantly calming down as he drank.  Mickey’s heart regained its regular beating pattern and his cheeks warmed.  He sat down next to Iggy.

“See, I can handle my nephew,” Iggy said still halfway chuckling.  “Probably why Lana trusted you with Bastian around me.”  Mickey rolled his eyes, because Iggy was starting to sound like a dick.  Mickey would get it together.  Moving on. 

Thoughts of the day’s earlier events with Svetlana then began to play in Mickey’s head; her focusing on something or _someone_ up the street, then suddenly needing to rush off to work.  Even though they were married with no romantic relationship between them, with the exception of a sloppy hand job from her here and there when Mickey’s prospects were scarce, he still couldn’t help but feel somewhat possessive of her.  Perhaps it was because she was the mother of his child.  It would be no surprise if she was involved with another guy, but Mickey at least thought she would be honest and open about it.  After all, she knew about his sexual escapades with other men, especially since his first hookup was set up by her at her job.  Garden Springs Spa had secret male prostitutes that provided services to an even more ~~in the closet~~ exclusive clientele.  The owner was smart – he kept this aspect of his business hidden to keep bigots and brutes like Terry from ransacking the place and competing for body counts.  And trust, it was not out of caring for his male workers and keeping them safe; it was purely a monetary thing.  The money that came in for that piece of his business was extremely lucrative, and he refused to eat that kind of cost.  Mickey glanced down at his son who was more than content now that he had his bottle.  He then turned to Iggy who was immersed in some TV show, sipping lazily on his beer.

“I think Lana’s up to something man,” Mickey opened the conversation.

“Yeah I remember you bitchin’ about that,” Iggy responded sarcastically.

“Fuck man, I’m serious.  I think she may be seeing someone else.”

“As she does every night.”  Iggy shrugged his shoulders, not even sure why his brother was acting surprised if that was the case.  After all, she fucked other dudes for a living.  As long as she was bringing home the cash at the end of the day, Iggy didn’t see the issue.

“Would you take me serious for a sec?”

“Sure, whatever.”

“Look, earlier when we were at the Kash N Grab, she was fixated on something up the street.  I turned around too late to catch what or who she was starin’ at.  I asked her what had her attention and she pretty much shrugged the question off with a half-ass answer.  All of a sudden she had to be at work.  Its complete bullshit, I know her schedule.  Said Irina called out.”

“Talk to her ‘bout it when she gets in later then.”

“Nah, I would rather go before she gets in.  That is if she’s even at work.”  Iggy raised an eyebrow at his brother’s sudden need to play super-husband.  He had somewhat of an idea that the marriage was arranged, didn’t know or care why, but he was sure Mickey didn’t give a fuck about Svetlana in _that way._   Why all of a sudden?

“Hey whatever you feel the need to do man,” Iggy responded, his eyes still glued to the television. 

Mickey then looked down at Sebastian who was fast asleep.  He got up and walked to the room him and Svetlana shared, placing his son in his crib next to their bed.  “I’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said as he pulled the blanket over him.  Mickey didn’t know why this was so pressing, but it scratched at his brain and he just had to find out what his wife was up to.  Whatever it was, he was certain it would have no effect on him, but the direction in which her secret endeavors swayed, could potentially have an effect on their son, and that was something Mickey was not willing to gamble with.  The sound of the front door jolted him out of his thoughts.  He walked back into the living room to find Mandy putting her bag pack on the floor.

“Hey shitheads,” she greeted her brothers.  She was always so ladylike with them.

“You’re like two hours early Mands,” Mickey said as he walked back to the couch.

“Last class got cancelled.”  Mandy was taking courses at the Junior College.  She hated school, but somehow never missed a class since she enrolled.  She was a lot better than she was in high school.

“Good.  Can you watch Bastian for a few hours?  Lana had to go into work early.”

“Sure, where is he?”  Mandy was horribly in love with her nephew and never turned down watching him to Mickey’s surprise.

“He just went under.  He’s in his crib.”  Mickey bumped Iggy’s shoulder, rattling him out of his trance.  “C’mon man, let’s go.”

“Go where Mickey?  Runs ain’t gettin’ done today, remember?”

“To take care of that business we discussed.”

“You serious?”

“Very.”  Iggy shook his head at his brother’s request, but obliged.  They both grabbed their coats and winter gear, Iggy grabbing his gun (just in case shit went down), and headed out of the door.  The stomping of their boots was unforgiving, as they traversed down the sidewalks of the south side, hastily making their way to Garden Springs Spa.


	3. Chapter 3

“You’re the ginger boy Michael is seeing, yes?”

The sound of Mickey’s name, although in its entirety and scarcely used by anyone, tugged at something in Ian’s stomach.  A hint of jealously quickly coursed through his veins at the thought of Mickey actually allowing Svetlana to call him that.  It did not sit well with him and was a stupid thought, but it irked Ian nonetheless.  He rolled his eyes at her comment.  He tried his best not to be rude in his response, because the fact that her tense was off caused Ian to feel _off_.  He badly wished the things in his past would stay there, but as usual, they came back to haunt him, the ghosts disturbing more than his thoughts – they ruined his rhythms.   Ian quickly reminded himself that English was not her first language and decided to nicely correct her.

“Was,” Ian started, his voice scratchy.  “I’m the boy your husband _was_ seeing.”  He coughed violently after finishing his sentence, the word ‘husband’ dry as it exited his mouth, upsetting his bronchitis and laboring his breathing.  He didn’t know why he chose to say that; perhaps verbalizing the actual word would pull him out of denial. 

“You need medicine for that,” Svetlana said to Ian as she pointed to his throat and chest.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Come, I have just the thing.”  Was she serious?  Ian looked at her suspiciously.  First she follows him after he was obviously spotted by her, now she’s offering him medicine like she fucking knows him.  He shook his head, denying her request.

“I said I’m fine.”  Ian fixed his scarf again, and began to walk off, only to be stopped by her bony fingers gripping his forearm.

“Wait, please,” she pleaded.  She then reached for something in her pocket, and pulled it out, motioning for Ian to take it.  “At least put this on your head.”  He looked down at the Chicago White Sox skullcap she had in her hand.

“You just randomly walk around with hats in your pocket?” Ian asked as he took the hat.  A small smile spread across Svetlana’s lips.  Ian never found her particularly appealing, but for some reason, she didn’t seem that bad to him now.  She had less makeup on her face, and her eyes actually had some sort of life in them.  He credited her son for that.

“Sort of.  It’s Michael’s.  He refuses to wear hat, but I always carry it with me in case he gets some sense in that head of his one day.  He wears it maybe two times.”  Despite his inner protests, he took the hat.  “He won’t notice it’s gone.”

“Thanks,” Ian said plainly.  He held up the hat to place it on his head.  Although Svetlana said he rarely wore the hat, Ian’s fingertips couldn’t help but recognize the residual traces of his former lover, as impossible as that seemed.  And God did it smell like him.  Despite not seeing, touching or smelling Mickey for well over a year, that scent was just as recognizable and strong – an intoxicating mixture of cigarette smoke and cheap, strawberry scented shampoo.  Ian could tell he was still using the same one he always complained about.

“He misses you.”  Ian frowned at Svetlana’s comment.  It was a fast ball out of left field, and it hit Ian, _hard._

“How do you know that?  Has he said that to you?”

“No.”

“Thought so.”  Ian began to turn and walk away again.  He was so done with this.  He still didn’t even know why the whore that _raped_ Mickey in front of him even came after him.

“But I know because he says your name in his sleep.”  Ian stopped dead in his tracks.  “Ian, yes?”  Mickey never called him by his first name, but hearing that he unconsciously vocalized the one thing Ian wanted almost more than anything to hear leave his lips, made the hairs on his arms stand at attention.  He quickly shook the fuzzy feelings and steeled himself.  He wouldn’t let the one guy he worked so hard at getting _over_ get back _under_ his skin, not even inadvertently through his so called wife.  He slowly turned to face Svetlana.

“He never called me that.”

“But it is your name?   Mandy talks to me about you.  She misses you too.”  Ian dropped his head at the sound of his best friend’s name.  Even Mandy didn’t know he was home after being kicked out of the Army.

“Yes, that’s my name.  He says it in his sleep?”  Svetlana smiled, wider this time, revealing her teeth.  It was kind of creepy to Ian given her expressionless face was all he had etched in his mind.  He actually thought the woman was void of any emotion.

“Take walk with me?  I give you medicine for your cough.”  Ian didn’t know why, but he nodded his head in agreement.  He could have been walking into major shit, given he didn’t know where they were going; for all he knew, they could have been going to the Milkovich house.  But something in Ian told him that Svetlana knew better. 

On the way to wherever they were going, Svetlana stopped outside of a Bodega.  Ian’s chest was sore from all of the coughing, probably more from the memories.  “Wait here,” she said as she went inside.  A few minutes later she came out with a small bag.  She pulled out a pack of Halls cough drops and handed it to him.

“This your medicine?” Ian asked.  She shook her head, implying a ‘no.’

“This is cough drop.  To hold you over until we get to real medicine.”  Ian was somewhat taken aback by how nice she was being to him.  They continued walking, the streets familiar to Ian.  He was beginning to recognize where they were headed.  His heart sank as they passed the stairwell where he once hid for over an hour, waiting for her to exit Garden Springs Spa.  He got nauseous at the thought of how sick he was back then for someone who clearly didn’t want him as much as he wanted him.  When they walked up to the door of the place, Ian froze.  He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go in.  He looked Svetlana in her face, her eyes honest and unthreatening.  A question danced in his mouth.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.  His voice was almost pleading.

“Like I said before.  He misses you,” she answered so matter of fact.  Ian’s heart skipped a beat.  What was she implying?  Instead of trying to decode what wasn’t clear yet, he just cracked a small smile.  She held out her hand and motioned for Ian to follow her.  Without hesitation, he grabbed it and went inside.

“I’m still not sure why we’re _here_ for medicine,” Ian said looking around.  The place was dimly lit, and had the appearance of a spa, except for the bad lighting.  There was a blonde female with her hair in a high bun sitting at the front desk.  She looked up at them, her teal eyes sparkling as she smiled.  Svetlana went behind the desk as the girl stood up, and kissed both of her cheeks.  They began speaking in Russian, the blonde looking over at Ian with the widest grin as they spoke.  Feeling uncomfortable, he put his hands in his pockets.  The girl then made her way towards Ian, extending her hands.  Ian hesitated, but took them as she leaned in and kissed both of his cheeks.

“So handsome,” she said in a heavy Russian accent.  “I am Nadia.  Follow me.”  Still confused, he followed her and Svetlana down a hallway of rooms to the one all the way in the back.  It was an office.

“This is Oswald’s office,” Svetlana said to Ian as she made her way to a cabinet in the back of the room.  “He’s the owner.”  The office was tackily decorated with red shaggy looking carpet, animal print chairs and gaudy lights and other fixtures.  There was a cigar holder in the shape of a lion’s mouth on the cherry wood desk.  Svetlana chuckled at Ian’s obvious disgust for the man’s taste as she walked towards him holding a bottle and a box she retrieved from the cabinet.  “He likes the animal things.” 

Ian looked at the contents in her hands; a box, tea it looked like, and a bottle that was obviously alcohol of some sort, both with Russian writing on them.  “This the medicine you were talking about?”

“Da,” she responded in Russian.  “It’s Russian tea, and Russian whiskey.  Drink tea with shot of whiskey and poof, no more cough.”  She handed the tea and whiskey to Nadia, saying something to her in Russian.  She nodded, and walked out of the office, probably to go make the concoction.  Svetlana turned back to Ian.  “Come, follow me.”  Ian walked behind her as they made their way back down the hallway.  A few rooms down, they stopped in front of one of the doors.  “This is where I work,” she said as she opened the door.  Once again, Ian hesitated before walking in, but fought his inner protests and went inside.

The room was surprisingly comfortable, given what he knew went down in the confines.  It actually had the makings of where a massage therapist would work, with a massage table in the middle of the room, a coffee table to the right in front of a few chairs with the same animal print as the ones in Oswald’s office, and everything someone who was actually doing massages would need from oils, to lotions, all on a counter to the left.  Svetlana smirked at Ian, knowing the boy was curious, _really_ curious.  She walked over to the counter with the oils, and opened a locked compartment beneath it, revealing lube, condoms, toys, and everything someone working in a brothel would need.

“We keep that stuff hidden, in case raid happens,” she said to Ian.  “Come, sit.”  She sat at the small coffee table, motioning for Ian to take a seat.  Nadia then came walking in with a cup of hot tea.  She placed the cup in front of Ian, subsequently placing the whiskey next to it.

“In case you want straight,” Nadia said to Ian.  She then winked at Svetlana then left the room.

Ian sniffed the hot tea as held brought it close to his mouth.  He could smell the alcohol coming from the cup and began wondering to himself if Nadia got the proportion of tea to whiskey backwards.  Nevertheless he took a gulp of the tea, the burn in his mouth from both the tea being too hot and the sting of the alcohol.  The taste wasn’t that great, but he welcomed the warmth of the whiskey going down his throat – it was much needed.

“Thanks,” Ian said after taking another sip.

“You’re welcome.  Give it twenty four hours and no more cough.”  Ian smiled into the mug as he took another sip.  They sat in silence for the next few minutes, his body becoming warmer with each swallow of tea and whiskey.  Svetlana studied his face as he drank, so many questions in her eyes.  Ian knew it would be any moment before she began to speak, or spill what’s probably been building inside her for the past year.  He finished his tea then opened the whiskey bottle, pouring a good amount straight into the mug.  He took too big of a gulp, not expecting it to be so harsh.  He twisted his face as the burn set fire to his throat.

“Strong isn’t it?” she asked.  Ian shook his head ‘yes’ as he coughed a few times.  “That for big Russian men.  Even Michael has problem drinking it.”  Ian cringed at the sound of Mickey’s name.  They were doing do good not talking about him.  Svetlana must have taken note of the look on Ian’s face.  Her smile dwindled, and there was a sudden sadness in her eyes. 

“About what happened that day,” she began as she looked down at the table.  Ian’s face got hot as he listened to her voice, each word seeming to slow down, seconds turning to minutes allowing the past to catch up to the present time.  That day meant _that_ day.  He closed his eyes because he knew where she was going.  “I never wanted that to happen.”

“You don’t owe me an explanation,” Ian responded.

“But I want to say I’m sorry.”

“Why?  I’m pretty sure you were doing it out of fear for your life as much as me and Mickey feared for ours.  Terry, he’s – “ Ian cut himself off not wanting to recall the events of that day in the Milkovich living room.  All he could see was red, black and blue – blood and bruises.  “Just…look, we don’t have to talk about it, k?”

“But I saw it,” she continued, ignoring Ian’s request to end the conversation.

“Saw what?”  Svetlana’s gaze deepened as she looked at Ian. 

“The way Michael looked at you while it happened.  He hurt for you more than he hurt for himself.”

Ian didn’t respond.  He couldn’t.  Svetlana was picking at raw nerve right now, and if he reciprocated it any way, he was certain he would break down.  He had to steel himself.  _Fucking steel himself._

“And now,” Svetlana continued, “the way he looks when Mandy talks about you, it’s – “ she stopped not being able to find the words.

“It’s what?”

“Like he’s lost, then found at sound of your name.”  And with that, Ian took another gulp of whiskey.  Mickey’s name had the opposite effect on him.  It was as if he was in a labyrinth, just beginning to make his way to the center, until the walls decided to shift and change, forming a maze.  So at the sound of _Mickey fucking Milkovich_ , he once again finds himself guessing each turn because unlike the labyrinth that’s one path meant to lead to the center, a maze is meant to confuse and send you the wrong way.  “But he’s been a little better since Sebastian.”

“Sebastian?”

“Our son.”

“Oh,” Ian responded dryly as he furrowed his eyebrows.  The enthusiasm couldn’t have been further away.  “That’s a great name.”  And it was.  He threw in a compliment, trying not to seem insulting to Svetlana, given she was his mother.  If only he would have kept his mouth shut, because saying one thing clears a path for another to be said.  He wasn’t sure if it was possible to wince at something not yet spoken, but he found himself wanting hysterical deafness for what was to come – there was hysterical blindness, so it could be possible.  Svetlana’s face lit up as she spoke about her son.

“Yes, Michael named him.  Sebastian Clayton Milkovich.”  Ian thought he was hearing things, but the sound of his own heart beating relentlessly in his ears reassured him what he just heard was real.  Mickey had given his son his middle name. 

“How did he come up with the name?”

“Don’t know.  Just said it was cool name.”  Typical Mickey to be ambiguous.  But Ian knew.

“Are you gonna tell him I’m back?” Ian asked.  He hoped she would say yes and no at the same time.  He didn’t know if it was the alcohol starting to take effect, or his heart warring with his head, but he didn’t know what he wanted.  There was too much information digested in such a small amount of time, so Ian was in overload.

“Soon.”

“When?”

“When time is right.”

“I still don’t know why you’re _really_ doing this.”  Svetlana continued to look at Ian, a knowing look spreading across her face.  Her next words were straight to the point and spoken without hesitation.

“Because I believe in true love.”  


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a huge fan of this chapter - I think I could have written it better. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy! One more chapter after this. :)

He picked up his pace.  Something was bothering him as he tried to connect the dots, his boots abusing the pavement as uncertainty did the same to his mind.  Mickey couldn’t shake what he didn’t know so he told himself he was overreacting.  Why was he so antsy?  Maybe it was because he knew Svetlana was hiding something.

“Yo!  Slow down!” Iggy yelled from behind.  Mickey didn’t realize how fast he was walking until he looked behind him to see his brother trailing more than half of a block away.  He didn’t give two shits and it wasn’t like Iggy was actually walking at a decent pace – his spirit animal was the fucking tortoise, always had been.

“How ‘bout you hurry the fuck up!” Mickey yelled back.  Iggy picked up his pace, doing a slight jog until he was next to Mickey.

“We’re goin’ nowhere fast anyway dude.”

“Nowhere fast?”

“Hell yeah nowhere fast!” Iggy yelled.  He was beginning to get frustrated with his brother’s antics over nothing.  “You got this _feeling_ that Lana is up to no good when we both know you’re not _feeling_ her, not like that man.  So now we’re out here chasing inklings and shit.  I was down, because I always have your back you know, but now I’m losin’ my patience cuz we could be taking this time to do some runs!”  Mickey cracked his neck and balled his fists into his fingerless gloves as he got in Iggy’s face.

“She’s the mother or my fucking son alright!”  The two brothers were nose to nose now, Iggy instinctively balling his own fists.  “But go on Iggy, get the fuck on.  Go do your runs.  But you ain’t got a wingman so your chances of gettin’ into somethin’ you can’t get yourself out of I’d say is about a four out of five.”  Iggy’s fists loosened and he rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip – a common Milkovich tick. 

“Alright man, fuck.  Look, my bad.  I got you no matter what.”  If not for his brother or his prostitute wife, Iggy stood down for his nephew.  If Svetlana was involved in something that could potentially harm the little guy, he wasn’t having it.  “Let’s go.”

“Good,” Mickey said as he bumped his brother’s shoulder. 

They walked at the same pace, cutting down alleys.  When they arrived across the street from the spa, Mickey grabbed Iggy by his forearm. 

“We have to be casual about this,” Mickey started, raising an eyebrow.  He looked Iggy up and down.  “Ay when’s the last time you fucked?” He asked him bluntly.

“None of your fuckin’ business.  Why?”

“You gotta act like a client.”

“You’re actin’ like I’ve never been here before,” Iggy laughed.  “I’m game.  What about you?”

“Gonna pay Lana a little visit.”

When they walked inside the Spa, they were greeted by Nadia.  She looked at Mickey suspiciously because he never came unannounced.  He caught her suspicious look and smirked, because if anyone knew anything, it would be her.

“Mickey,” Nadia started as she stood, trying her best to keep her poise.  She was naturally graceful, but was having a hard time given the apparent attitude Mickey was giving off.  “You have appointment?”

“Nah, just wanna pay Lana a little visit.  It’s important.  She back there?”

“You know you can’t see any of the girls without appointment.” she said sternly.  “How about you Iggy?”  Nadia quickly turned her attention to the older Milkovich, trying her best to avoid any issues with the younger one.  But before Iggy could respond, Mickey loudly scoffed, holding up his hand in protest.

“The fuck you mean I can’t see her?  She’s my wife.”  Mickey was getting pissed.  Then to make matters worse, someone he didn’t expect to see came walking out.

“Hi Iggy,” the woman said in her most seductive voice.  She had strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.  Her septum was pierced and she had one of her arms tattooed in a sleeve down to her elbow.  A large butterfly tattoo covered the back of her neck.  Like all of the other girls that worked there, she had a heavy Russian accent.  “You come for special today?”

“Irina?” Iggy asked confused.  “Thought you were out sick.”

“Me, sick?  Ha!  Hardly.”  She rubbed her arm across Iggy’s forearm before turning to talk to Mickey.  “So where’s that brute of a father of yours?”  The question was directed towards Mickey, but he had already taken off down the hall.

~~~

“You okay to walk home?”

Svetlana watched a now ~~drunk~~ tipsy Ian as he stood.  Alcohol is sneaky, not making its presence known until you stand and Ian was definitely feeling the effects.

“Mmmhmm,” he mumbled.  “Jussst tipsy.”  His speech was beginning to slur, but he wasn’t that bad.  He’s certainly been a lot drunker than this.  But, it had been a while since he consumed this much alcohol so it seemed his tolerance was much lower.  Svetlana slipped her arm behind Ian’s back, leading him towards the door.

“Come, let’s get you home.”

~~~

Svetlana, and Ian for that matter, never had a true understanding of what it meant for something to happen ‘in the blink of an eye.’  Mickey never had a true understanding of what it entailed when someone said, _“before I knew it.”_   But just as quickly as the door was opened and Mickey’s eyes recognized and simultaneously denied the familiar face so considerately embraced by the one person since _him_ he could honestly trust, he found himself gripping the collar of _his_ jacket.  Everything from anger, and lust, and confusion, and something too fucking close to ~~love~~ caring coursed through Mickey’s veins as he threw Ian against the nearest wall.  Ian’s form was limp and he wasn’t fighting back, so right then and there Mickey knew he had given up.  He smelled alcohol on his breath and something inside of Mickey unraveled. 

No words were exchanged.  They locked eyes as one of Mickey’s thumbs rubbed against the flesh of Ian’s neck through his disheveled scarf.  He blinked his blue eyes trying to break and reject the gaze, but his hands twitched at the familiar feel of Ian’s warm skin.  What his eyes refused to recognize, his hands automatically remembered.  He quickly pushed Ian back against the wall as he let go.  He turned to a frightened Svetlana who was bracing herself against the frame of the door.

“What the fuck is going on?”  Mickey wasn’t yelling.  Instead, his voice was low and somewhat calm which was far more frightening than when he was loud.  Svetlana didn’t answer right away, sending him into a frenzy.  “Lana!” Mickey now screamed.  His nostrils were flared and his fists balled.  “I said what the fuck is going on?!”  Svetlana finally steadied herself.

“I went after him when I saw him.  He was – “ Mickey cut her off before she could finish.  He turned back to Ian.

“How long?”  Ian coughed as he straightened out his jacket and scarf, regaining his balance.  Well now this sounded familiar.  He didn’t look at Mickey as he spoke.

“Been back a few weeks now.”

“Jesus!  Were you even gonna let Mandy know?”

“Mandy?” Ian said now looking at Mickey.  “Or you?”  Mickey fixed his mouth the respond, but was interrupted by Iggy walking in.  He quickly swallowed his rebuttal, or lack thereof, and played off the emotion he was just about to display. 

“The fuck’s goin’ on?” Iggy asked looking at Mickey, then Svetlana and Ian.  “A fucking Gallagher?”

“It’s not what you think,” Svetlana quickly chimed in.

“The hell it isn’t.  You’re the faggot dad told me to look out for.”  Both Ian and Svetlana frowned at Iggy’s comment.  Mickey glued his facial expression because how he was about to look at his brother would have let him know he didn’t appreciate what he said.  He chewed on the inside of his cheek before walking towards Iggy.

“It’s nothin.  Let’s get the hell outta here.”

“You sure ‘bout this?”  Mickey squared his shoulders and gave his brother a stern look.

“Yeah.  I said it was nothin’ didn’t I?”  He then turned to Svetlana, making sure his eyes didn’t land on the form he wanted so badly to look at until his eyes and his hands agreed.  His fingers began to twitch again at the sound of Ian’s heavy breathing.  “I’ll deal with _you_ later,” he said angrily to Svetlana. 

And in the blink of an eye, he was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

Mandy jumped at the sound of the front door slamming.  She was in her room with a now awake Sebastian on her bed.  She rolled her eyes at the sound that played so much in the Milkovich household, almost certain it was a pissed off Terry coming home after a bad “business deal.”  Curiosity got her as she heard the voices of Mickey and Iggy in the living room, a definite heated tête–à–tête.  Mickey sounded pretty upset, and Iggy confused.  She picked up her nephew and walked out of her bedroom.  Before she could even take a step towards the living room, Mickey stormed past her headed towards the kitchen, nearly causing her to lose her footing.  She could tell he was angry and nervous about something given the way he paced back and forth with his hands balled into tight fists, and how he chewed on his bottom lip.

“Um, hellooo?” Mandy said to Mickey as he continued to pace.  “You nearly knocked me and Bastian over.”  He elicited no answer, refusing to look at her.  “Mickey!” she finally yelled.  He stopped pacing and turned to face Mandy, but instead of acknowledging her, he simply walked up and took Sebastian from her arms before storming into his room.  Iggy came and stood next to her as she watched in disbelief.  “The fuck is his problem?!” she spat.

“Caught Lana at the spa with a Gallagher.”  Mandy’s eyes widened as she looked at Iggy, and she almost began to panic, immediately going to the “Gallagher” being Lip.  Even though they were broken up for a while now, she still had feelings for him.

“What?  Which Gallagher?  Ya know, there are three that are of age.”  Three, including Frank, although it was more than likely _not_ Frank.

“The red head one.”

“Wait…what?  Ian?!”  Mandy immediately stormed to Mickey’s room, everything from excitement to being really fucking pissed with her brother bubbling inside her.  She bolted through his door only to find him sitting on the edge of his bed with Sebastian lying on his back in his lap.  He looked up lovingly at his father as he squeezed his pointer finger, trying to figure out how he could get it in his mouth.  There was no real expression on Mickey’s face, his body hunched over in a posture of defeat, and Mandy felt her heart sink at the sight.  She thought about shouting every profanity in the book at him, but decided to take a softer approach.  Ian was a sensitive topic, and she knew this.  Iggy had no clue – but she knew.

“He’s back,” Mickey said in a low voice as he continued to stare at his son.

“I know.”  She went and sat next to him.  He still refused to look at her.  “Iggy kind of just told me.  How long has he been back?”

“According to him, a few weeks.”

“That asshole,” Mandy muttered under her breath.  “And what the hell was he doing with Lana of all people?  I know he wasn’t there rendering her services.”  Mandy furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to stitch the ripped pieces together.  None of it made sense.

“Dunno.  I think she saw him earlier and followed him.”

“But does she know about…you know…you two?”  Mandy’s voice trailed into almost a whisper at the last two words.  She still hadn’t gotten used to the thought of her brother and her best friend being together in _that way_.  Mickey finally looked up at her, and it suddenly dawned on him that Mandy didn’t know about Terry catching him and Ian, the rape, the forced wedding.  He wanted to tell her everything right then and there, but she didn’t need one more fucked up memory to add to her ‘daddy’ archives for Terry.  He knew he would have to eventually tell her, but he was far from ready.

  “I didn’t think so, but it seems she put some things together.”

“Well I’m going to see him!” she said as she stood up.  She practically ran for Mickey’s room door, turning around before walking out.  “And you should too.  You _and_ Sebastian.”  She wouldn’t call him a pussy this time, or hurl insults at his inability to say what he needed to say to her best friend, rather, she would let him go at his own time and pace.  Too fast for Mickey meant to crash and burn.  She turned and left the room, the sound of the front door slamming causing Mickey to jump.  He knew his sister was no longer there, but perhaps the walls would listen.

“I know I should,” he said as he ran his fingers through Sebastian’s hair.  “But I don’t know what to say.”

~~~

The doorknob was like lead as she turned it; heavy and cold on her fingers.  She groaned inwardly as she opened the door to the Milkovich home which had been her own now for the past year.  It had been a few hours already and Svetlana dreaded facing Mickey, not because she was afraid, but because she cared too damn much.  She cared too damn much for her husband and what became of him and his former lover.  She was a sucker for love; real, honest, unadulterated love, and despite all of the shit that Ian and Mickey had been though, enough to soil something so pure, the obvious feelings between the two managed to escape unscathed.  It was just a matter of things unsaid finally being spoken, and fears being burned.  The house was quiet as she entered, all of the lights off except the glow of the television screen.  She sighed at the sight of Mickey sitting on the couch with Sebastian on his chest.  She went and stood in front of him.  He didn’t look up at her, but he knew she was there.  She took off her coat and sat next to him.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly.  Mickey didn’t respond, but instead handed Sebastian to her and got up, storming off to their room.  Svetlana let out a long, frustrated breath before standing as well and following him.  She opened the door to find Mickey sitting on his side of the bed staring out the window his back to her.

“Why did you lie to me?” he asked. 

“Michael, look – “

“No!  Why didn’t you say anything?!”  Mickey was standing now and facing her and Sebastian.  Svetlana’s face hardened as she stared him directly into his eyes – something she learned at an early age growing up in Moscow.

“Why Michael?  And then what?  What would you do?”  Mickey rubbed his thumb across his bottom lip.  He sat back on the bed, turning his back to her.  He couldn’t face her.  Typical.  “You are Terry’s son for Christ’s sake.”  That stung Mickey’s ears, the sound of “Terry” and “son” in the same sentence; a poisonous sound.

“The fuck does that mean?”

“You are emotionally imprisoned.  You’re not ready for guy like Ian.  At least not yet.”  Mickey felt like yelling at the bitch and telling her she had no idea what she was talking about, but she did.   “I chased him because he needed to know.”

“Know what?”

“That you miss him.”

“I never said fucking said that!”  Svetlana sat at the foot of the bed next to Mickey.

“We share bed Michael.  I hear you say his name in your sleep.”  He closed his eyes and began to rub them with the pads of his fingers.  He breathed in deeply, contemplating exactly how he would respond to this.  Normally, he would tell anyone else to fuck off, or say they were full of shit.  But this was Svetlana.  Despite today’s mishap, he knew he could trust her.  So he fought his natural inclination to play badass and be harsh, asking her a question.

“W-what do I say?”

“Ian.”

~~~

It had been almost three weeks since the incident at Garden Springs Spa.  He warred within himself about doing this, and after much thinking and a lot more coercing from Mandy and Svetlana, here he was, standing on the Gallagher’s doorstep – with Sebastian.  It was too cold to walk, so Mickey drove over, not wanting his son to catch a cold.  He looked down at Sebastian, who was making those little cooing noises Mickey loved, smiling and revealing his gums and one tooth that was coming in.  He had been standing on the porch for the past ten minutes, too afraid to ring the bell.  _“Fuck this,”_ he thought and began to make his way back down the stairs to the car.  Before he reached the front gate, a voice caused him to stop.

“Going somewhere?”  Mickey turned around to see Ian leaning in the doorway, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest.  Damn the Army was good to him.  He had on a long-sleeved, long john shirt that was fitted to him, the too snug fabric revealing every outline of his abs and the cuts in his biceps.  His red hair was growing out from a buzz cut and his eyes were still just as green.  And had he gotten taller?  Yes.  Ian rolled his eyes and smirked when he realized Mickey wasn’t moving or responding.  “Thought you and the little guy would freeze if you stood out here any longer.”

“How long did you know I was out here?”

“Only when you arrived.”  Ian looked down and shook his head as he smiled.  “Ya know, you never were good at walking quietly.”  Mickey smiled at Ian’s comment.  He was right; Mickey was extremely heavy footed.  “So are you and mini-you gonna come in?”  Mickey turned to look around behind him, almost as if watching his back, making sure no one was watching.  Old habits die hard.  He then turned back towards Ian.

“Yeah, sure.”

He walked up the steps and slid past Ian, almost certain the red head took up more room in the doorway on purpose, refusing to move to force some sort of closeness.  He was smart because Mickey’s free arm that wasn’t holding Sebastian’s carrier brushed Ian’s pelvic bone.  His fingers twitched at the familiar territory, almost aching from wanting to _touch._ The look on his face was also a lot more content from what Mickey remembered from the spa.  His eyes weren’t sad or angry, and it seemed as if he had come to terms with whatever it was he was struggling with.  

“Have a seat,” Ian said as he motioned for Mickey to sit on the couch.  He came over and sat next to him, watching Mickey as he took the tiny winter gear off of Sebastian.  Once his own coat was off, Mickey sat back, not removing his own scarf.  He was so fucking tense.  Ian lightly chuckled at the sight.  Mickey cleared his throat, mustering up the strength to say something and break the awkward silence.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked. 

“Fiona’s at Mike’s, Debbie and Carl are at little Hank’s birthday party, Liam’s at Sheila’s and Lip stays on campus at the University of Chicago.”  Mickey looked around the quiet house, still on edge despite them being in the safety of the Gallagher confines.  “Relax, it’s really just me.”

“Just you, huh?”

“Yup.”  Sebastian began to make little noises, grabbing Ian’s unwavering attention from his father.  Ian’s stomach began to do little flips as he stared down at him, a spitting image of Mickey.  “So?”

“So, what?” Mickey asked, suddenly nervous again.

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us?”  Ian glanced down at Sebastian.  Mickey held him up.

“This is Sebastian.”

“How old?”

“Five months.  You uh – wanna hold him?”  At first Ian hesitated, but grabbed him as Mickey handed him over.  While passing Sebastian over, Ian’s fingers brushed Mickey’s, and he was almost certain this is what it felt like for something dead to have life shocked back into it.  The electricity caught both of them off guard, but it was what their hands recognized that made everything that was unspoken between them, all of the feelings, to simply be understood.  They didn’t have to say anything, but they both _felt_ the same rush, and with that, Mickey felt his body relax.

Ian played with Sebastian until he fell asleep.  The two instantly connected which actually made Mickey happy.  Liam still had his old crib upstairs, so he took him up there, assuring Mickey he would be able to hear him if he woke up when he noticed he started to mildly panic at the thought of his son being all the way upstairs.  He passed by the kitchen before going back to the couch, getting beers for the both of them. 

“Here you go,” Ian said as he passed Mickey a beer.

“Thanks.”  They once again sat in silence for a few more moments.  Mickey was actually the one to break the quiet.  “So why’d you come back?”  Mickey winced at the question, it being the same one Ian once asked after his second stint in juvie.  Ian took another long gulp of his beer.

“Got kicked out.”

“Shit.  Why?”

“Pretended to be Lip to get in.”  After being silent for a few seconds, Mickey let out a loud snort.  Ian frowned and looked at him, unsure why his now ruined future in the Army was so funny to him. 

“The fuck is so funny?” 

“Told your ass you had to be eighteen,” Mickey responded through another snort.  It was contagious.  Ian let out a laugh at the memory of that day in Mickey’s room.  Despite the unpleasant memory, Mickey was right and it made Ian laugh.  He looked at it from a completely different angle now being back then was how it was, and _right now_ was like it is.  Things were different now, and Ian only hoped it would be for the better.

“Guess you were right,” Ian said as his laughter died down.  He turned to look at Mickey who was now biting nervously at his bottom lip.  It was a tick Ian knew all too well.  It was like biting down on words he wanted to say, and Ian knew this. 

“If it means anything,” Mickey started after a long breath.  “I’m glad you came back.”  Ian smiled wide at his words.

“So you missed me, huh?”

“What?  I didn’t say that.”  Mickey scoffed and took another sip of his beer.  Ian thought he would have a little more fun with Mickey, pick at him a bit.

“So…what’s your son’s full name?”  Mickey froze, then quickly re-gathered himself.

“What?  Why?”

“Just curious.  I like the little guy.  Just wanna know his full name, ya know.”

“Sebastian Milkovich.”

“No middle name?  I could’ve sworn Mandy said he had a middle name.”  Mickey then looked at Ian.  He was fucking with him.

“You know, don’t you?” Mickey asked as he cocked a brow.

“Maybe,” Ian teased.  “What is it?”  At this point, Mickey thought _“fuck it”_ because it seemed there wasn’t anything Ian didn’t know.

“Alright, alright.  It’s – “ Mickey paused before finishing.  “Sebastian Clayton Milkovich.”  Ian grinned his famous shit eating grin.  “Go ahead, eat it up!  So I gave him your middle name.  It’s a cool fuckin’ name.”

“Sure it is,” Ian said slyly.  Mickey shifted his scarf, and the sight made Ian get hot.  “Jesus aren’t you hot in that scarf?  You haven’t taken it off since you got here.”  And without thinking, Ian reached over and slowly unwrapped Mickey’s scarf off of his neck.  He actually didn’t mean to do it _slowly_ , but that’s how it happened.  Mickey didn’t protest.  Ian’s eyes then landed on Mickey’s mouth, as he was nervously chewing on his bottom lip again. 

“You’re gonna bite that off one day.”  Mickey nervously chuckled then released his bottom lip.  And Ian didn’t realize it before he was already doing it, but he found himself lifting his hand and cupping Mickey’s chin while rubbing his thumb across Mickey’s bottom lip.  The older boy flinched, then slowly leaned into the touch.

“What are you doing Gallagher?”

“Just remembering.”

And with that, Mickey reached his own hand up, gripping the back of Ian’s neck as he pulled him in closer.  He tugged at the hairs on Ian’s neck, focusing in on his lips.

“What are _you_ doing?” Ian asked, still moving in closer. 

“Also remembering,” Mickey responded before sealing such memories with a long awaited kiss.  He continued to stroke the fine hairs at the base of Ian’s neck, his fingers once in a while traveling to the top of his back.  He smiled into the kiss.

It was what his hands remembered.  Always had been.

~ The End ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the end! I hope you enjoyed. There will certainly be other stories in this series to follow, mainly focusing on daddy!Mickey and his journey as a father. It will also chronicle his relationship with Ian. I will be honest and say I don't know when I will add another story, because I have three other fics I will be focusing on updating first. Definitely look out for more in 2014...my inspiration will probably be crazy with Shameless airing and all!! :)

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a one shot, then slowly took on a mind of it's own. I've always had this idea in my head (or headcanon) that Svetlana is not as bad as some think, and if it came down to it, she would be the one to vouch for Ian and Mickey. I also wanted to try my hand at writing some daddy!Mickey. There is a good amount of Iggy in this story as well, which I love, because we always see the brother/sister bond between Mickey and Mandy, but rarely the brother/brother bond between Mickey and Iggy. This will more than likely be a part of a series I'm going to title, "How It Was, and Like It Is." I hope you all enjoy, and thanks for reading! :)
> 
> This is five set chapters already written, so I will be posting the first two chapters tonight, then one each following day.


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